Empty Shoes
by MercurialNight
Summary: Pertains to my other fic: Perfect. Newest update-Before Drizzt has even had time to greive, the aftermath of tragedy leaves the responsibility Orpheus left behind to fall on his drow freind's shoulders. Note-none of these are in chronological order.
1. Into the Dark

"**Child of mine, someday you will die,**

**But I'll be close behind. I'll follow you into the dark.**

**The time for sleep is now.**

**We'll hold each other soon, in the **

**Blackest of rooms…"**

Light as the autumn rain were his tentative footsteps, numb over the quiet forest ground, carrying him further toward final travesty. No more urgent calls came from the trees, no more the worried plea of the leaves, but rather a quiet stillness, where no sound could stay comfortably. Only the eternal blanket of the rain yet spoke, but said nothing, and Orpheus sensed from it a solemn hopeless finality. _Too late_, was the whisper. _You are too late, dear child of the wood._

The call was heard mechanically and absent from his mind, as it was focused, like his glassy sea-foam eyes, solely on Raylin. She lay centered in the glen, centered of the world, of his every anguished heartbeat. Her body was callously strewn over the ground—testament to her rough treatment. Covered in blood and beauty, his cosain as a swordbitten maiden lay unearthly still under her moonless night, lost in a great lightless void. And Orpheus knew—he simply knew: it was a void no living soul could reach.

His steps halted; his strength faltered. He staggered, fell, dropping to his knees and the bloodstained leaf litter. His beautiful hands trembling, he reached for her, dreading to feel the ice of hopeless end. Hesitating, Orpheus stared down at the unearthly vessel, marvelous blue-green eyes hollow in his angular face, too frozen to reflect anything from out the torrent in his soul.

_Too late, gentle nymph. We mourn with you._

Thawed somewhat upon hearing the voice of the forest, Orpheus was able to touch her. She was cold. He didn't recoil, but slid an arm underneath her shoulders and pulled her into his shielding embrace. And as he did, her head tilted back, so that he could see with awful clarity her face turn towards him. The sight was enough to break through his icy numbness. Tears erupted like a bursting dam and burned along the olive-brown skin of his cheeks. Her eyes were open. Her eyes, her brilliant golden-red amber jewels, whose light could rival the fires of the sun, were open. Glossed-over. Extinguished.

"Raylin…" His crystal-bell voice had been cracked under grief's crushing hammer. He reached down, brushing aside strands of golden hair, which had been tainted by blood and stuck her to face.

His slender fingers gently pulled her eyelids closed. "You are sleeping," he announced. He shook his head with a grimace of agony, trembling as anguish racked his body. "My cosain, you must awake…"

It was his only charge. To protect her, to watch for her, to swear his life before her own. He had failed her, failed the dílse and the dwarves, and committed a tainted sin upon all of Faerun. He had allowed such a light as the heavens envied to be extinguished from the world. Would that he could take her place, as it _should_ be. She was supposed to outlive him. Lights were meant to shine.

_She is come away. You must release her._

Orpheus clutched at his head, tearing at the wild sycamore leaves that grew naturally along with his pale brown hair. His slender fingers knotted into angry fists. "She is sleeping!" he argued fiercely. "_Wake, cosain! _Raylin! You…you _must_ wake…" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this was vain. Vain and destructive. Never in his life had he felt anger toward the wood. Never in his 233 years. He didn't…seem to care.

Orpheus was changed. He was far removed from nymph—far from being a child of the wood. He could no more deny it, nor hope for better. For anything.

"I…I am sorry." He choked on the words, struggling to take in a full breath. Sorry couldn't even begin to amend anything. But though they could fix nothing, they were true words. Sorry to Raylin. To her father, and the Battlehammers, and the dwarven king. To the forest. Sorry to the world. Orpheus pulled her closer, burying his face in her shoulder. Her head fell limply backward, closed eyes toward the sky. The rain fell gently on her face, like she'd always loved so much…but she couldn't feel it now. It was heartless irony.

Orpheus could hold his strength no longer. He collapsed into the tears, racked with uncontrolled sobs as he clung to her broken body. "_Please_, Raylin," he whispered brokenly. His tears fell onto her frozen face, cutting clean streaks through the blood and dirt. "I—I cannot protect you from this!"

As he knelt with Raylin's body, consumed with his sorrow, another appeared behind. Cedric burst into the clearing. He saw nothing of circumstance, nothing of reason; he had only eyes for his daughter. His breath was blasted away in a wave of frigid horror. Impossible…it was impossible. Cedric's one working eye locked on his daughter's upturned face. His child…his only child, his shining Ray…

Here it was before his sight…but it was impossible.

As if for the first time, Cedric saw Orpheus. The nymphs back was turned as he held his dead daughter. But the fallen guardian's sorrow did not touch Cedric. This man—this weakling fairy creature—had been charged to protect her. It was his highest duty to preserve her life. Yet here she lay, bleeding red rivers, lost to the world of light and life.

Cedric's calloused fists curled into shaking fists at his sides. He'd known. He'd known from the beginning that tragedy was the only end. And this Orpheus—curse his foreign name!—pledged a solemn vow to protect her life with his very own. The nymph had sworn, upon his life. What father would send his child to war? But Raylin had pleaded with him—she needed to go, she said. She threatened to sneak way without his permission. So had Cedric allowed his daughter to become a cosain.

To this horrible end. Trust he had given this man, a foolish thing to do, and foolish to listen to Raylin, who was but an unlearned child. She was just a _child!_ A life only just beginning! She didn't know…how could she have known? She'd done nothing to deserve this massacre. It wasn't her fault. But Orpheus—he was supposed to protect her. Upon his very life he'd sworn to protect her. They'd had an agreement...

That agreement was broken. Upon his life.

Cedric's hand moved to the sword sheathed at his side. Eyes burning tears, he drew that blade and stalked forward.

_Rise, child. You are threatened._

Child. She still called him that?

Orpheus didn't move, didn't show any signs that he heard at all. Instead, he did the strangest thing—raised his melodic voice in song. "The moon is full, but wolves below are…quiet in the fold…" It was a song of the dílse. Just three days ago, Raylin had overheard him singing it to himself, and had immediately insisted he teach it to her. He planned to, but… never got around to it…

Cedric gave no care for the nymph's sudden voice. It is the right of a dying man, if he so chose, to die with a song on his lips. Cedric took another step forward.

_Rise; he comes from behind. Defend yourself._

"The forest sighs her lullabies, and…stories are not told." He supposed it didn't matter that he hadn't taught it to her. He'd meant to, after all, and the thought counted.

Moving deathly quiet, the rain streaming down his scarred and grizzled face, Cedric raised his sword. Orpheus paused in the song. He didn't have time for the first verse. He'd need to skip to the chorus; Raylin loved it best. "Broken brothers scatter to the wind. Token lovers are delusion kin."

Standing directly behind him, Cedric paused, sword held at the ready. He could do it, at any moment easily, but he stayed his hand. Raylin would want to hear the end of the song.

Orpheus's beautiful voice wavered and stopped for just a moment. He took in a shaky breath, raising his head to the sky as he closed his pale blue eyes. Raindrops caressed his face. Again he heard the call of the forest: _You must live, nymph. She is lost, but you are not. Rise!_

Orpheus continued the song. "Let us be…more than dream…"

Cedric's eyes gleamed as did the metal of his sword. He gripped the hilt, drawing back his arm. He pointed the sword's tip at the nymph's back, right about where his left lung would be.

"Let us stand…"

_Rise, seed of the wood!_

Orpheus opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of the clouded sky. He took in a deep breath, savoring the sweet taste of forest air. It was the final breath he would ever take, and Orpheus spent it on the last word of the song. Though quiet, though solemn, it was the clearest, most beautiful note he ever sung in his two centuries of life. "Loyalty."

Cedric's arm sliced forward.

His body jerked violently as the sword plunged straight through, bursting cleanly out his chest. There was pain—pure and burning agony. Cedric's sword was removed just as quickly as it had entered. He straightened up, staring down at the nymph's shuddering body as a blacksmith looks at a newly forged blade. As a stoneworker inspects his freshly laid sidewalk. As a worker views a job complete.

Orpheus fell, but didn't even feel the impact with the ground. His eyes now stared across the sodden forest floor, falling on Raylin's vacant, beautiful face. Done. His charge was done—and, at the same time, ongoing. He would be there with her, floating out in the ultimate sea, the end of decadence and the goal of this ever-progressing decay all beings called living. He would be by her side, where he ever swore to be. Always.

Orpheus closed his eyes. The forest's grief was silent to his ears.

Cedric stood for a short moment, staring vacantly at the gruesome pair. Wordlessly, the old man stepped over the nymph's body and kneeled over that of his daughter. He gently reached around her neck, unclasping the chain that held her jeweled cúram. Then he stood, stepped over both bodies again, and simply walked out of the clearing. He didn't allow himself to look back.

The empty glen resounded with the song of rain. Never again to move, Raylin and Orpheus lay side-by-side, the fallen guardian's arm protectively wrapped around his fallen cosain's shoulders.

_Too late…too late..._

* * *

Lyric heading: "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie


	2. Elvenkin

"**Cast off the robes you're wearing.**

**Set aside the names that you've been given.**

**May this place of rest in the fold of your journey**

**Bind you to hope.**

**In the shelter of each other, **

**We will live."**

His arrow smacked straight into the apple, knocking it from the tree and to the ground, joining several other impaled fruits. "Seven of nine," he bragged, a wide smirk splitting his gray lips. "Five eyes and two splits. Care to challenge, nymph?"

Reclining against a fallen log, his hands behind his head, Orpheus narrowed his seafoam-green eyes at his companion. The smallest hint of a smile danced across his pale brown face, a familiar devilish glint in his eyes. Drizzt knew that look. That was the Orpheus smirk of mischief.

"There is little challenge to be met, drow." Snatching an arrow from the quiver on the ground, Orpheus stood up and sauntered over, holding out his hand for the bow.

The drow handed it over with a smirk to match his companion's. "You should hope you shoot as well as you sing," he taunted, stepping back to give him room.

Orpheus didn't say a word. He nocked the arrow and drew back, knuckles brushing his high cheekbone. His smirk widened, eyes narrowing with all the concentration of an elven archer. He released the bowstring with a flourish. His arrow somehow found its way through three apples before dropping to the ground with the others.

Beaming evilly, the nymph looked to Drizzt, who was gaping indignantly at the fallen arrow. "Ten of nine. All eyes."

"What…you…ten of nine?" The drow protested. "You can't have ten of nine!"

Orpheus laughed, a sound like a pennywhistle in the hands of a bard. "I had seven hits of eight shots. One more shot—nine. Tell me, Drizzt, what is seven plus three?" Drizzt groaned, to his companion's triumphant delight. Once again, the nymph had won the contest.

They both sat under the tree then, Orpheus tossing aside the bow. It was a day the type of such you only ever read about—not because of the clear sky and warm breeze, or the noon sunlight that spilled into the apple orchard in just the right way. Today was rare because, for now, there was nothing to be done. Nothing demanded of either of them. Neither Drizzt or Orpheus were called upon to the battles required by loyalty; justice and impending doom were to themselves at rest in each his fortress. And though they gathered for renewed combat, such would not come until at least tomorrow.

Today, Drizzt was not the world's only drow ranger, loyal friend to King Battlehammer. And Orpheus was not the guardian prince, chosen by dílse landrunners.

"You're eating all of these, you know."

Drizzt cast him a curious glance.

"The apples," he clarified, picking one up and tossing it to him, arrow and all. "Someone has to."

Drizzt grinned crookedly, shaking his head. "Oh, no. I'm an evil dark elf; I have no moral obligation. You're the nymph. You eat them." He threw it back and then put his hands behind his head, so Orpheus couldn't return it.

Orpheus glared at him dully. Without a word, he took the arrow by its shaft and used the apple-end to smack Drizzt on top of his head.

"Ow—hey!" He snatched the arrow away, grumbling sourly. "What was that, the wrath of the forest?"

"The forest herself enacts no wrath. The nymphs, her children, defend her."

Drizzt could only stare at him, shaking his head. "Orpheus…" He hesitated, wondering how he would react if he were to breach this subject. Drizzt knew his friend's thoughts about his own heritage. He thought to be losing it. Finally, Drizzt gave a quiet chuckle and remarked, "You sure do hold on to things, don't you?"

Orpheus cast down his eyes. His fingers fidgeted around with a blade of grass. "I don't know how to let go, I suppose."

"It's that you don't want to. You belong to an entire race of people like yourself. So…don't." Drizzt looked straight at him, forcing him to meet his lavender orbs. "Don't you ever, Orpheus, let that go."

There was a moment of silence. Orpheus ran his fingers along the grass, trying his best to listen—but he only ever could hear whispers anymore. Fleeting glimpses of the forest's voice. "Even nymph children can hear the words of the wood…I believe I'm letting go whether I want it or not." He looked up to meet Drizzt's dark purple eyes. "How do you know?"

Drizzt's deep eyes narrowed, a silent gaze his only answer. Finally, the drow huffed a sigh, leaning forward to pick up another of the impaled apples. He thrust it into Orpheus's hands, forcing his fingers away from the grass. "Eat your apple. Keep your customs." Drizzt put his hands behind his head and leaned back again, intentionally not meeting Orpheus's questioning eyes. "When you let go, you know it for sure."

Orpheus looked down at the apple in his hands. He raised it to his lips—but hesitated. Nothing had ever felt so fake. What did he really care if they were all eaten?

Drizzt's attention was drawn by the thrown apple as it bounced along the grass. He looked up to Orpheus, who was watching the fruit with eyes far away. "Not today," he murmured, shaking his head hopelessly. "I am not nymph today."

Silent, Drizzt turned his eyes down. He reached out and picked up the apple, gently sliding it off the arrow. "And I am not drow," he muttered, his own eyes full of bitter longing. He took a bite of the apple. In the silence that followed, Drizzt couldn't keep away familiar pangs of guilt. One of the few, rare times they didn't have to think about things like homelessness or decadence, and he'd turned the whole mood south. Drizzt glanced sidelong at his companion, assailed by the sadness in his seafoam eyes.

So Drizzt tossed aside the apple, and folded his arms behind his head, leaning back against the tree. His gaze was to the sun and the wide, bright sky, higher than any cavern ceiling and infinitely more beautiful. "What do you suppose we are?" he pondered, his tone light and carefree. "On days like this?"

Orpheus looked up as well, fondly watching the curtain of green leaves dancing in the late summer breeze. "…Kin," he replied at length, turning to meet his friend's eyes. "Elvenkin."

Drizzt returned the small smile. Both turned their eyes upward once again. The leaves danced against a bright sky, apples and arrows littered the ground below, and the rest of the world seemed a million miles away.

* * *

**Lyric heading:** "Shelter" by Jars of Clay.


	3. Reality's Messenger

"**Only darkness still remains.**

**Lost sight; couldn't see…**

**Blow the candles out.**

**Looks like a solo tonight."**

The crowd was as strange as any to be found at the burial of a nymph. The races had segregated themselves. On one side were the lithe and graceful woodland people, all of them resembling the forest in one way or another. They were colored like her. Hair, eye, and skin tone ranged from the soft green of moss to vibrant autumn fire. They kept to themselves and the majority of them stared with eyes of steel. Orpheus's decision to be buried alongside a human, and not to be reabsorbed into nature as custom went, was protested by much of his kin. And of course it didn't help that Drizzt was in attendance. The drow was sure at least seven of them had come for the sole purpose of silent protest and passive aggression.

On the opposite side, a small crowd of humans milled around with each other. They fidgeted clumsily, unlike the nymphs, whose fidgeting was more like a quiet dance. The humans stood around each other like they were ready to form an emergency battalion. Stupid, all of them. …Cedric wasn't among them. Drizzt wasn't surprised.

A dirt path separated them from the nymph side. They were all gathered in a wide field, quite a ways into the forest, where hills rolled and the sky loomed thickly grey. In the small hillock at the head of the crowd, two stone doors were set into a hill. Depressed, dying flowers littered the ground.

Drizzt stood on neither side, but in the middle of the path, back to the crowd. A dark elf attending a nymph's funeral, and he was the only one here solely for the memory of the dead. Pretty bad, man. This would depress the heck out of Orpheus.

The late nymph's father stood across the clearing with his dead-eyed wife, closest to the two tombs. The head of the high nymph counsel—what others would call a king—had actually stayed true to his son's last wishes, and by that Drizzt was surprised and impressed. It was the least he could do, though. As he watched, the nymph leader broke from the crowd and approached him. Drizzt knew why, and it surprised him even more.

"You may," the ancient figurehead announced curtly, stopping feet away as if unwilling to get too close to the evil drow. What an honor. Drizzt had half a mind to light them all up in purple fire and leave.

Instead, he turned and stalked to the front of the gathering, standing with his back to the sealed earthen sepulchers. He faced the crowd, then imagined that they all slowly began to disappear, and he would sing the funeral dirge not to them, but to those it was meant for.

"The moon is full, but wolves below are quiet in the fold…" The dílse song seemed fitting as any possibly could be—neither nymph nor human, and loved by them both.

His voice flowed along the verses, soft and rough like the rain, and he thought only of Orpheus and Raylin as an audience. Maybe it was the past again, and the three of them sat around the fire at night. Orpheus had taught Raylin the song like he'd meant to and they all sang it together. It was a campsite in this lonely meadow, and not two graves. Maybe it was the carefree summer again, where they were shooting down apples, being nothing but elvenkin…

Suddenly, he opened his mouth, but found there were no more verses to sing. It was over. Drizzt opened his eyes to the open field and all those masked, unfriendly faces under the empty winter sky.

Sure to outrage the spectators, a laugh escaped him. He shook his head, turning his eyes down, smiling dryly. "Never could sing as well as you, my friend. But there you go."

Drizzt shoved his hands in his pockets and walked the path away from them. The crowd began to break formation and murmur amongst themselves, some leaving, the funeral at an end. He intended to leave then and there—where, he neither knew nor cared—except he felt a hand grab his arm, stopping him. At least…it felt like a hand. But it was….furry… Was that a nymph thing he didn't know about? Scowling, he jerked away his arm and turned, ready with his darkest curses and insults. But surprise struck him silent.

The woman was tall, imposing, and exotic. Waves of vibrant auburn hair framed a face with angled cheekbones and a sharp nose, with slanted golden eyes that shone like gems. Her clothes, entirely made of fur and leather, showed her long legs and the lithe, corded muscles of her arms. She was young, but bore the impression of a thousand years. All paled in comparison to her race—for she couldn't be anything other than dílse. Where a human's ears would be, a pair of furry red fox ears stuck out from under her silken hair. Glancing behind her, Drizzt saw a matching tail swishing back and forth.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," she stated. When her mouth moved, her whickers twitched, and inside you could see canine fangs. She had a type of accent he'd never heard before. "Come on," she bade, and strode away without waiting for an answer, heading for the treeline at the edge of the field.

Drizzt knew better than to argue. He followed, trying to match her swift pace. She had absolutely no trouble moving through the forest—but then, a dílse wouldn't, would they? She was more at home here than the trees. It seemed like forever in a silent walk, and Drizzt was even getting winded trying to keep her in sight. She was always ten feet ahead and he could only catch glimpses of her. But finally, after losing sight of the dílse once more, he parted a few branches and saw that she'd stopped. She was standing with her arms folded, staring at him with an intensity that made him draw back warily.

Finally, she spoke. "I am landrunner." She put one hand—Drizzt noticed it was actually a fingered paw—into a pouch at her belt. Pulling out a small metallic object, she held it up, dangling from one black-furred finger. At the sight of it, Drizzt's jaw dropped open. "I guess you know what you are."

Dread pierced his heart like a freezing arrow. He stared at the familiar pendant in horror-stricken silence, watching the silver pendant twisting on its chain. It was a twisted knot of vines and leaves, with a blue gem set within.

A small measure of softness found the dilse's sharp eyes. "It was his," she murmured gently.

Drizzt met her eyes desperately. "No…" he whispered, voice shaking with fury and terror.

The landrunner only stared.

* * *

***Lyric heading**: "Candles" by Hey Monday


End file.
